


Smile like nothing’s wrong

by prototyping



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, also make-outs, canon AU, me convincing myself that his dumb canon decision was the right one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: “It’s always been you.”[Alisha/Sorey]





	Smile like nothing’s wrong

“I see.”

It’s a soft answer, nearly lost beneath the volume of voices and music that drift up from the street and through the open balcony door. It’s a beautiful night, warm and full of cheer and tranquility. Alisha can’t remember ever having felt such peace and contentment among people in Ladylake, nor in any place in Hyland, and yet she found it here, in Lastonbell, amidst a population of soldiers who only a few days ago were fighting to kill one another, and now drink and laugh side-by-side like old friends.

And all of it was made possible by the one in front of her, standing in the doorway with his back against the frame as he gazes out over the peaceful city.

Sorey hasn’t spoken in over a minute, and other than her somber response Alisha doesn’t try to break the silence. At first she stares down at her hands in her lap, but her eyes can’t stay off him for long－especially now－and soon she’s studying him and his relaxed posture.

He surprised her by showing up at her door just before midnight. She half-expected him to be gone by now, already moving on to wherever duty called him next, so she was glad to be wrong, and doubly glad that he sought her out. Their time together has seemed so fleeting ever since parting in Marlind.

But never so fleeting as it does now.

He isn’t wearing his Shepherd’s mantle, the first in a long time that she’s seen him without it. Looking at him makes her feel strangely nostalgic－that handful of days in Elysia, their reunion in Ladylake, watching him pull the Sacred Blade－as if those memories have been with her for much longer than they have.

And she wishes they had. For all the time she’s spent with him, it suddenly doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

“When will you depart for Camlann?” She’s grateful she’s spent so much of the last few days conversing with Sergei and the other officials; her voice comes out much steadier than she feels.

“In the morning.”

Her heart skips a painful beat. “So soon?” she can’t help asking.

Sorey finally turns back to her as he straightens up. “There’s no time to waste,” he reasons gently. “I wanted to leave today, actually, but…”

Again Alisha is silent－not for a loss of words this time, but too many of them. There are so many things she could say and wants to say, but she’s not sure what’s appropriate and what might accidentally be cruel or whether she can say any of it without losing her composure. She suddenly doesn’t feel sure of anything anymore－nothing other than the painful weight in her chest. Her eyes return to her lap.

She doesn’t look up when he approaches, nor when he kneels in front of her. He doesn’t try to catch her gaze, but only waits－and at length Alisha gives him that, doing her best to keep her face neutral.

He smiles and she envies him. “I’ll be fine, especially since I know you’ll be alright.”

She wishes she could say the same. Instead she only nods, a lie if she ever told one. Perhaps Sorey senses it; he reaches up and gently takes her hands in his, as he’s done so many times, and that twinge in her chest can’t decide if it hurts more or less at the touch.

“Sorry,” he adds as that smile turns crooked, “but I’m gonna rely on you some more. People like you, with strong convictions, who really love this world and want the best for it… You’re the ones who will make history. I know I can trust you to keep going.” He grips her fingers lightly; she grasps back tightly as she nods again, this time decidedly. He knows how to get to her.

“I will.” Her voice is coming out too quiet, too heavy, but she forces the words and her smile, anyway. “I’ll do everything I can to finish what you’ve started. I’ll endeavor to give this world a history you can be proud of, Sorey.”

But she doesn’t like him kneeling like this－as if he serves her, is beneath her. Her hands slide down his wrists to grip his arms, an ally’s equal and trusting touch, and gives an indicative tug, firm but not forceful. He catches on and a moment later he joins her on the edge of the bed, their hands still intertwined and resting between them.

They stare out the open door at the night sky for a while. Alisha’s partly afraid to speak, wary of breaking the trance and reminding him that it’s late and prompting him to leave, but the longer she remains silent the higher the risk of him departing with so much unsaid.

Finally, she turns toward him. “I feel as though I say this too much, and yet… not nearly enough, but－thank you, Sorey. For everything. I can’t… even begin to describe all that you’ve done for me－as the Shepherd, but more importantly… as my friend.” She smiles at his curious expression and this time it’s heartfelt. She feels more open around Sorey than anyone, perhaps even more than she did around Maltran. She has nothing to hide from him, and no reason to do so. “You truly are the closest friend I’ve ever had, and I… have no way of repaying you for that, but… I hope my words will suffice, even a little.”

She squeezes his hand again and this time her gaze does falter, her confidence does waver. “But if I may ask one favor… it’s that… you remember me.”

He surprises her again, now with a soft chuckle that makes her heart skip but this time it doesn’t hurt. “You don’t have to ask. I could never forget you.”

That prompts a smile, a small grin, before Alisha can even think to hold it back and she wishes she could because she exhales along with it, sharp and deep and shaking. It’s telling but Sorey doesn’t react; he only watches her, waits for her, in case she has anything else to say.

But Alisha could talk until dawn and she still wouldn’t run out of things to say to him. She could go on thanking him and expressing her trust in him and talking about their time together until her throat was sore, but in the end it wouldn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. Words don’t feel necessary at this point, but the silence and stillness seem incomplete all the same.

So for a long moment they don’t say anything as they sit hand-in-hand. Alisha isn’t shy－she isn’t subtle about the way her eyes go over every inch of his face, memorizing it as well as she’s able because it’s her last chance and she’ll have nothing but memory to go on after tonight. Maybe he’s doing the same or maybe he doesn’t have to, but he doesn’t look away, either, and it makes her chest throb all the more because she’s dreading the moment he does.

Alisha isn’t shy but she can’t think of the right words and his coming here means so much to her but everything inside her hurts now and even this moment isn’t enough, nothing will ever be enough because this is the last time she’ll see him and she hates it, she hates it more than she’s ever hated anything, she hates it as much as she loves him and suddenly nothing in the world is fair anymore－

The night is warm but she feels cold, chilled by a loneliness she’s already beginning to feel, and she wonders if the ice and the weight in her chest is what heartbreak feels like.

She feels cold but he feels warm, his hand around hers, his cheek against her fingers as she touches his face, his bright eyes as they watch her without surprise or objection.

She feels cold but his mouth is warm, and what might have been a glancing kiss lingers on her end because like his gaze and this visit she’s afraid of it ending and every second counts now, and if he’ll just give her one, two, three more…

“I’m sorry,” she breathes quickly as she breaks away, but that might also be a lie because she would do it again in a heartbeat. Their hands are still joined but now his caresses hers in small, comforting motions.

“No. I’m sorry.” Alisha looks up and she’s surprised by how sad he looks－and now she truly is sorry because that’s not a look Sorey should ever have to wear. “That I can’t give you more.”

Her throat is thick and there’s no fighting the tears anymore, but she smiles as her vision blurs and her voice cracks. “No－no, Sorey, you’ve already… done so much… I only－I wouldn’t feel right… hiding anything from you… including how I feel.” She breathes in, out. Clears her throat. It doesn’t help. “I don’t expect it to change anything－it shouldn’t－but… I know I would regret not telling you. Even if you don’t… feel the same… I want you to know that it’s never been about the Shepherd.” Her warm laugh is as much of a sob and she can’t see a thing. “It’s always been you.”

She closes her eyes tight, but his hand cups her face and she breaks. His thumb catches the first tear and tenderly wipes it away, his lips the next as he kisses her cheek, gentle and brief. When he pulls back there’s an exchange of uncertainty, his warm breath on her skin and her fingers curled tight in his shirt and still their two hands are joined, as sure and comfortable as when they started.

Perhaps it isn’t the wisest choice. It will only make her feel worse afterwards, not better, but Sorey hasn’t withdrawn or turned away and if there’s even a small part of him that wants this, for whatever reason, she’ll gladly give it to fill the silence and the stillness and keep him for just a little longer.

As for Alisha, she knows what she wants－no matter how much more she’ll hate the morning.

She kisses him again and this time he kisses back. He isn’t shy, either, with the way he tilts his head and breathes her in and returns each curious push and pull for another.

And he’s so gentle it hurts. There’s nothing but respect in the way he matches her pace; affection in the brush of his fingers down her neck; patience as he lets her boldness set the boundaries.

It isn’t long before Alisha disregards the pretense of propriety—her arms are around his neck as she presses herself against him and in the morning she’ll hate knowing how warm and perfect he felt, how quick and willing he was to return her embrace and hold her tight because after tonight he’ll be gone, all of it gone—

—but tonight she only loves him and everything about him and that’s all that matters while they still have time.

Their kisses are longer, their breaths quicker, their hands bolder, but Sorey’s touch is still light and easy as it roams her back and rubs her shoulders and takes her breath away. He makes her weak without trying and she can only pull him impossibly closer and kiss him deeper in response.

It’s tempting to close her eyes and focus her senses entirely on his touch, but she resists. She wants those glimpses of flushed color in his face and the glaze in his eyes, the sight of his hair gliding through her fingers and his strong shoulders working with each movement and touch of his hands.

She isn’t sure when she slides into his lap to straddle it, but the shock of sensation is enough to make her slow down, her movements turning easy and patient again. They trade light kisses now, playful and affectionate touches with unhurried pauses between. He kisses her forehead and when it makes her smile he does it again, twice more, before falling still with his soft breath tickling her hairline.

This somehow feels more intimate than anything else. When his hands come to rest on her sides, so casual and comforting as though it’s neither the first nor last time, her fingers clutch his shirt as she swallows another sob. If Sorey notices, he doesn’t point it out.

The sounds of celebration in the street are suddenly all wrong. The world is about to lose something irreplaceable—not forever, but for Alisha it will be. It’s her mother and Maltran all over again and those wounds are still too raw to be ripped open again like this—and this time Sorey won’t be here to comfort her and prop her up and remind her of what matters.

But when she finally pulls back, it’s with a smile through her tears as she gently shakes her head. “I’m only… making this worse, aren’t I?” she whispers, her voice unsteady. “I’m sorry. I’m such a…”

“No.” It’s the gentlest objection she’s ever heard and his smile is too soft for someone on the edge of forever. Sorey gathers her hands from his shoulders to hold them; she isn’t sure whose palms are more calloused between the two of them. “I’m grateful. You remind me of… everything good that’s worth protecting. I don’t have any doubts. And…” He tilts his head with a half-shrug that says he’s searching for words, and then chuckles uncertainly. “Well… it’s nice. This is nice.”

His good humor is contagious and Alisha breathes a laugh, taking one hand back to wipe at her eyes. “It would be a lot nicer if I could stop crying.”

“It’s fine.” Another gentle squeeze of his fingers. A serious look. “But I… don’t want to make things hard on you. So, if this is…”

She can’t tell him he’s worth that pain. She only presses her palm to his chest and answers with a sad smile, “I’ll be alright. You said so yourself.”

This time his laugh is just a short exhale. Alisha brushes some bangs from his eyes, and then follows the curve of his cheek down to his mouth, tracing his lips thoughtfully. “But… am I keeping you from something?” she inquires softly.

His breath and his voice brush against her fingertips and it’s hard not to shiver.

“No.”

Her starting kiss is a deep one this time. Sorey is receptive, accommodating, and still as gentle as can be, holding her face and stroking her jaw line, cradling her as she leans into him again. Her knees hug his hips. Her hands drag down his chest and up again and the way his breath stutters further stokes that growing heat inside her.

She leans a little too heavily and he starts to fall backwards, but spares one hand to catch himself halfway. It’s still enough for her to lean over him, to lie flush against him, on top of him. Her left hand braces against the bed beneath him to take some of her weight back; her right fingers the topmost button on his shirt, tracing and tugging until it slips free and she can’t confidently say it’s an accident.

She does the same with the second, the third, before he catches on. She meets his gaze when it turns to her, prepared to accept his objection—but there isn’t one. A pleasant chill works its way down her spine as she loosens the rest while he watches her, the look difficult to read.

When his shirt is open her hands slip inside. She kisses him again and bites his lip as her palms trace firm muscle in his chest and sides, his skin so warm that his thin black shirt surely doesn’t make much of a difference. She does the same up his back, across his shoulders, appreciating and memorizing as well as she’s able because it’s her last chance and she’ll have nothing but memory to go on after tonight.

Her hands circle back to his chest and she repeats, leaning in to set her forehead against his chin with a soft sigh. He kisses her skin and massages the back of her neck, otherwise letting her learn him unobstructed.

They continue to study each other, with hands and mouths, for the first and last time. The longer it goes on, the harder that truth is to ignore. Alisha’s movements become a little faster, a little more forceful, as though losing herself in him might delay the inevitable for even a few moments more—but none of it helps her forget, even for a moment, that this isn’t meant to last.

Against her better judgment, it only makes her want him more.

Her kiss is rough now. While he doesn’t match her force, he doesn’t object, either. 

She’s started to ache for him in ways she shouldn’t. His body is solid and strong beneath hers, an unbelievably satisfying sensation, and more than once she wishes he would go ahead and lie back properly—

That glance of collarbone has been teasing her and she finally tugs his shirt collar down to expose it, her fingers tracing and then her lips tasting. The small hum in his throat makes her warm all over while the way he shifts underneath her sends goosebumps over her skin and this time she _does_ shiver—

There’s a fire in her now, eager and overwhelming, and it flares when she realizes Sorey isn’t as relaxed as before. He’s tense, his shoulders taut and his core tight, his hand on her side firm but not quite squeezing, and a small part of her is disappointed that he still holds back—

He could ask anything of her right now and she would certainly give it to him without thinking—but he doesn’t. Not once is he rough or eager or impatient, even when she prompts more wistful sounds out of him. Not once does he encourage anything more than this, despite his pulse speeding up beneath her hands and mouth. Not once does he give in to any impulses he may be entertaining, even when his body betrays him and what little space still remaining between their hips is gone, desire made plain against her soft inner thighs, and she doesn’t mean to moan but it slips away as easily as her breath as she presses herself even closer—

For a reckless moment Alisha wants _all_ of him—and for a thoughtless instant she’s willing to take him, if he’ll let her, her fingertips seeking out the end of his black shirt, the skin underneath, tracing his defined hips, his stomach, higher, her panting heavy as she starts to rock against him in an unsteady rhythm—

Sorey twitches, a full-body jerk as though he’s been struck. In a heartbeat he breaks their kiss as he sits upright, gently but firmly grasping her sides and half-lifting, half-pushing her off of his hips and back towards his knees. He’s breathless, but that doesn’t keep the surprisingly strong shade of authority out of his tone. _“Don’t—”_

Alisha instantly freezes, her hot blood running cold with apology and shame and not a little sting of rejection. Her hands withdraw from his shirt and she starts to slide off his lap, scrabbling for words—but he catches hold of her wrists and stops her, firmly enough to get her attention but not so much that she can’t pull away. She doesn’t, of course, even though it takes a surprising amount of courage to meet his gaze—and Sorey waits until she does, his expression as patient and considerate as ever.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he finishes in a murmur.

Alisha stares—embarrassed, but sensible enough to be grateful for his level head, and touched by his concern. He’s merciful and breaks eye contact after a moment, leaning forward to rest his head against her shoulder. His thumbs gently work the softest part of her wrists, and then his hands drift into hers to loosely interlace their fingers.

Her fire burns itself out, gradually. She feels Sorey’s heartbeat slow and the heat in his skin fade, hears his breathing return to normal, and assumes every other reaction she prompted has done the same. But he’s still very warm and solid and real and she hasn’t forgotten his touch and his taste and she never will, just like she knows no one else will ever feel or taste as good as he did this night. Her pulse is still buzzing, her skin still humming, but her mind is clear now and she uses the silence to think.

Her quiet voice is, eventually, steady when she speaks up some time later.

“You’re always looking after me. I wish... I could have done the same for you, just once.”

“You will.” He pulls back and his smile is still soft, still fond and unperturbed, and it’s a relief even though it hurts her. “Everything you do from now on is taking care of me. So… thanks, Alisha.” His smile breaks into a grin. “From the future.”

It’s such a Sorey thing to say and Alisha laughs, because it’s that or cry and her tears aren’t what she wants him to remember. He named her for her smile, after all—and that memory helps her manage one as she nods. “Mm.”

She slips off of his lap to sit beside him as before, still holding hands. There’s an embarrassed part of her that still wants to apologize, even though he’s made it rather clear that they’ve moved on from the moment—and perhaps Sorey senses it in her silence and downcast gaze, because again he speaks up and again there isn’t a hint of anything awkward or regretful.

“We should probably get some rest. Big day tomorrow, for both of us.”

It’s the moment she’s been dreading but Alisha doesn’t miss a beat, nodding once more and forcing her eyes up. Sorey has enough on his mind as it is; he doesn’t need to walk out of here worried about her on top of everything else. “Yes. You’re right.” Her fingers already feel cold in his hand. “Would it… be alright to see you off in the morning?”

Something about Sorey’s smile is different this time. He hesitates. And then he answers with a question. “Would you like me to stay until then?”

He can immediately see the indecision in her face, probably as she wrestles with her own wishes versus what she thinks is best for him. When her eyes drop again and she doesn’t immediately answer, he starts to worry that he’s given mixed messages between this and what he firmly put a stop to.

“The others…” she says finally, quietly. “I’m sure you would like to spend some time with them, as well…” 

“We’ve already talked,” he assures her. “They’re probably all asleep now, anyway.” He isn’t totally sure that second part is true but he smiles like it is, the same way he smiled when neglecting to mention what the seraphim’s roles would be in the upcoming battle. Maybe it’s wrong to hide anything from her at this point, but he’s left enough on her shoulders as is.

There’s a glimmer of hope in Alisha’s eyes before they turn away again. Her hesitation this time is brief, however, and when she takes his right hand between both of hers he knows what her answer will be.

“Then, please. Stay.”

He’ll do just that. He’ll go on holding her hand and he’ll lie down with her when she’s ready to sleep. He’ll return her embrace when she moves closer, and he’ll rub her back until she finally drifts off with her face hidden against his chest.

He’ll also be the first to rise in the morning. He’ll be careful not to disturb her and he’ll be glad to see how peaceful she looks. He’ll wonder, for the last time, whether he should have come at all.

He’ll leave without waking her, and he’ll be out of the city before she can follow.

But right now Sorey only smiles and gives her hand a fond squeeze and pretends he doesn’t hurt as much as she does.

“Okay.”


End file.
